When the War is Over
by keem
Summary: It's strange, because Matsuda has never really been able to -hate- anybody, but for a while now he's thought that maybe he could learn to hate Near. For Bialy. R&R.


**A/N:** I decided to do my first Matsuda-centric fic as an early Christmas present for Bialy. (Quote belongs to Wilde, since she loves him too.) When I was originally dreaming up characters for Matsuda to interact with, I decided wanted to pick someone who wouldn't usually be caught _dead_ in a room with him. Since I decided to give my Mello a rest for a while, I went with the next best thing xD

(you have no idea how close this came to becoming shounen-ai. Oh well, next time. ^^;)

--

_Suffering is one very long moment. We cannot divide it by seasons._

--

It is January 28th, 2015, and Matsuda is drunk.

He didn't mean to get this smashed, _honest_. He had sidled up at the bar because, well, he was going on a date with _Sayu_, something he never dreamed he would have the opportunity to do, and so he took a shot of liquid courage in hopes that it would help loosen him up, keep him from making a gigantic ass out of himself like always. But then he realized that the irony of the date he had chosen - Saturday had fallen on the 28th, the anniversary of Light's death - and the horror began to seep in. He wondered if Sayu had been offended by this choice and that's why she was late, or worse, if she had come here to _grieve_ with him, had somehow misread his intentions entirely. That's what inspired him to down another shot. And then _another_.

Matsuda has always had this tendency to get carried away, so by his fourth shot he's positively convinced that Sayu has misinterpreted this all as a gallant offer for a shoulder to cry on. Matsuda really isn't looking forward to it. He wants to call her up, tell her not to come, re-schedule the date for another time. But he doesn't, because if she isn't already offended she'll be offended_ then_, and then he'll miss his chance, and Sayu will never ever get coerced into going out with a dumbass like him again. This is his only chance, his golden ticket.

There's a game on TV and the bar is packed. Matsuda tries to watch the television but he can't hear the commentary over the dull roar of the crowd churning around him, and the closed captioning is so small that he has to squint to see it. He ends up giving up because he can't see a damn thing anyway - his eyes are shot after putting in so much overtime in at the office today, poring over a particularly gruesome murder file.

Matsuda turns his attention to the window, tries to catch any sign of Sayu. He hopes she doesn't dress up, because although he's wearing a suit, it's rumpled and his shirt's untucked and oh god he probably looks like crap, should he go home real quick and change? Matsuda picks up his empty shot glass and stares at it critically, trying to pick his reflection out of the heavy crystal. He's not sure if he's being overdramatic about how haggard he seems to look, but it's hard to tell in the dark smoky bar area. He considers getting up, going to the men's bathroom to make sure, but he doesn't want to lose his spot here by the bartender and even if he did look awful, what could he do? His apartment is several blocks away from here, he'd have to catch a cab--

Matsuda shakes his head, returns his attention to the window. He can't pick Sayu out of the horde of pedestrians outside, in the world beyond that is dark and wet. It had drizzled a little on cab-ride down here, but had let up before Matsuda had arrived. Traffic in downtown Tokyo is especially awful tonight, and he wonders if this is really why Sayu is late. He rubs one finger absently on the rim of his empty glass as he looks up at the sparking city skyline. The newly erected SPK headquarters is directly across the street, a nondescript skyscraper that bears no logo, no indication of what sort of services it provides. But Matsuda knows. He had received the memo earlier this year; had learned that the place would serve as the de facto headquarters for Near while he worked on cases in Japan.

He wonders what Near is up to these days. He hasn't seen him since their first - and last - meeting, there at the Yellow Box Warehouse. It's strange, because Matsuda has never really been able to hate anybody, but for a while now he's thought that maybe he could learn to hate Near. He attributes it to the lack of thanks on Near's behalf when Matsuda, you know, saved his life by riddling Light with bullets. Doesn't Near appreciate what Matsuda gave up? Doesn't he know the nightmares it resulted in, the torment that came with being responsible for murdering your co-worker, your friend, your _idol_? Matsuda had looked up to Light, dammit. He had adored him, _revered_ him. And no matter how many times Aizawa or the others reminded him that the coroner's official cause of death stated it was a heart-attack, Matsuda could not remove himself from guilt.

(And the answers of these questions were no, obviously. Of _course _Near didn't know. Near didn't know Matsuda. So who could blame him?)

The way things ended up being seemed so absolutely opposite of what they were supposed to be. Matsuda had wondered what would have happened, if he had simply let Light take Near's life. If Matsuda hadn't intervened, surely the auburn-haired man would still be alive today, right? The others had seemed determined not to shed any blood, after all. It's a twisted fantasy, doing things in reverse, _letting Light win_. (Of course Light wouldn't have won - attempting to kill Near had been an act of desperation, and he had already lost. But Matsuda could pretend.) Matsuda bears the responsibility, the brunt of Light's death, but he attributes some of it too, because Near is cold and listless and his justice was borne out of a competition, a flawed justice, whereas Light's was true justice, and it was his methods that were uncouth.

(Matsuda feels remorse for killing Light. He knows its foolish to wish Light back to life, knows that Light would not award Matsuda with the same courtesy. Light would not have shown mercy - he would have killed Near, killed Matsuda, killed all of them. And yet somehow Matsuda sees it as a worthy sacrifice. Light had the right idea all along, after all; Matsuda had never made it a secret that he agreed with Kira's philosophy. Besides, nothingness - in the wake of depression and regret - does not seem all that unappealing, to be honest. God, but Matsuda could be so _morbid_.)

Matsuda tells himself that his sudden desire to see Near is derived from a need for closure. But closure for what? If anything, it's a passing curososity, an idea that can only seem like a good idea when you're as drunk as Matsuda is. So Matsuda gets up, throws down a few bills for the drink, and marches out the front doors and into the street.

--

The lobby is completely devoid of inhabitants, furniture, a sitting area, or a receptionist. There's a metal detector directly in front of Matsuda, and an elevator directly behind it. Its doors are closed and there are no buttons to push. Someone's jacked up the AC in here so that the entire place is ridiculously frigid; Matsuda wonders if they made this place deliberately uncomfortable, to deter people from getting too curiosity.

There's no call-button, no telephone, no bell to ring. But Matsuda knows that they're watching and listening. That doesn't make it any less awkward, but Matsuda figures what the hell, clears his throat and calls out: "Helloooo?"

"State your name and purpose," booms a distorted, unwelcoming, and vaguely sinister sounding voice from above, a voice that most definitely does not belong to Near. Matsuda nearly jumps out of his skin before whirling around in a circle, looking for the source of the noise. He immediately knows it's foolish, because whoever they are, they aren't _here_, but Matsuda is drunk and easily confused.

"Uhm. Touta Matsuda, and I'm here to see Near."

"Hold," the voice sounds again, and Matsuda ends up waiting for quite a long time. As the time drags by he becomes uncomfortably aware of how full his bladder has become. He really needs to piss but when he looks around for a bathroom of course he can't find one. Just when he's about to find a potted plant somewhere to relieve himself in the voice finally says:

"Please empty your pockets into the bin at your left, and cross through the metal detector. I will send for en elevator to take you up to the 27th floor."

"Is that where Near is?" Matsuda asks, and doesn't get an answer. He sighs and does as he's told, throwing his wallet, his cell-phone, and a handful of change into the bin specified before stepping through the metal detector. No alarms sound so he must be safe, and just as he approaches the elevator there's a dinging noise, accompanied by a faint whoosh as the doors slide open. Matsuda steps inside.

There's no buttons on the inside of the elevator too, and Matsuda feels vaguely panicky as the elevator begins its gentle ascent. Matsuda's been claustrophobic ever since he's been a little kid, and he can't help but imagine how positively _awful_ it would be if the elevator somehow stalled and he was stuck in there. There's no emergency door opener, and he left his cell-phone back downstairs, so how the hell would he ever get out? He makes a mental note to point this out to Near when he sees him.

He doesn't have to wait long. There's no indicating light, but he must have reached the 27th floor because suddenly the doors slide open again. Matsuda steps out and finds himself in what appears to be a huge antechamber with no windows. The only source of light comes from the enormous row of flickering security screens in the back, mounted on the wall over panels with dozens of buttons and blinking multi-colored lights. There are a few empty computer chairs but Near is not seated it one, he's sprawled out on his belly across the floor, with his back facing Matsuda. He appears to working on one of those store-bought models of some famous structure - this one appears to be an Eiffel Tower in its early production stages.

Matsuda stands there awkwardly. Suddenly it occurs to him that he hasn't thought this plan out very well. He's here, but he hasn't the faintest idea of what to say, where even to begin, or if speaking is really all that necessary. He's seen Near, right? Isn't that satisfying enough?

It isn't, and anyway he hasn't really _seen_ Near except from the back. "Uhm, hi," Matsuda says, belatedly, having been standing there in silence for a good forty-five seconds now.

"Mr. Matsuda," comes Near's cool, unaffected voice, and still the albino does not turn to address the elder man. "What brings you to the SPK?"

"Me and Sayu are supposed to have dinner across the street," Matsuda says, and he knows it's not the answer Near is looking for but he's not willing to go any farther than that. Near swishes one foot lazily through the air and finally says:

"You're welcome to take a seat, as long as you promise not to touch anything."

"Uhm. Okay." Matsuda does as he's told, being mindful as to keep his hands to himself. His knee knocks against something as he takes a seat, and he looks down and realizes it's one of those colorful plastic tubs usually reserved for storage, although this one looks as though it's serving as Near's toy box. Matsuda knows he shouldn't find it in himself to be surprised but he is just the same.

He gets his first good look at Near since his arrival. The fair-haired detective is leaner and longer than Matsuda remembers him being. His face is more angled now, less round, having lost any previous traces of baby fat. Near seems to have abandoned childhood altogether, having plunged headfirst into young adulthood. He looks to be more of his age now, with his hair that is longer, unkempt instead of curly, with his broader shoulders and the wiry muscles. In fact, with the pronounced circles he's acquired sometime over the years, he looks decidedly _L_-ish, a revelation that gives Matsuda a little wistful pang and something more.

Suddenly Matsuda can't look at him anymore - it's just simply too painful. He swivels around in the computer chair, tries to look anywhere but at this Wammy protégé who seems determined to stir up ghosts from Matsuda's past. He glances down at the control center to his left, finds himself staring at a picture of a blonde smiling impishly back at him. He knows he said he wouldn't, but he can't help himself anyway and picks up the picture, flips it over in his hand and reads the neat cursive on the back.

_'Dear Mello.'_

Matsuda glances back at Near, and finds that the detective has gathered himself up on his elbows to stare right back at him.

"You miss him, don't you?" Matsuda asks, blankly. Near immediately looks away and does not respond.

"I thought you guys hated each other. Sayu told me--" He stops himself from saying anything else. He knows that Sayu has told him about her stint as Mello's hostage in strict confidence, and he knows it wouldn't be right to betray her trust like that.

"Sayu only got one perspective," Near says finally, tiredly. "I never hated Mello."

Near wont let him make eye contact, but Matsuda can imagine that there is a kind of infinite sadness in those inky depths. He wonders how he could have ever thought of Near as cold. Reserved, yes; unfeeling, certainly not. Matsuda suddenly feels ashamed of himself, feels the need to explain himself even though Near hasn't really pressed the matter himself. Matsuda clears his throat and Near looks up again.

"I - I came to here to see if I made the right decision, that's all," he says.

Near does not seem to find this strange at all. "And did you?"

He swallows. "Yeah."

Near nods once, returns his attention to the puzzle. "While I don't mind your company, Mr. Matsuda, I think if you insist on staying here much longer Sayu will begin to think you've stood her up. Perhaps you should head back?"

"O-Oh! Right!" He had completely forgotten about his date. He stands up so fast he nearly sends the computer chair crashing to the floor, but manages to save it at the last second. Near lifts one thin eyebrow at him appraisingly, and Matsuda rubs the back of his had nervously, wonders if he should extend his arm to shake Near's hand. His hands are clammy and Near doesn't seem the type anyway so he decides not to, wipes them on the front of his pants instead. "R-right. It was nice seeing you again, Near. Bye." And he hurries for the elevator, whips around as the doors begin to close just in time to see Near staring back over his shoulder at him.


End file.
